


Take A Giant Step

by ThisWasInevitable



Series: Metamorphosis [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Image, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Trans Duck Newton, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, clint mcelroy is not the only one with a vast knowledge of late night horror movies, falls shortly after the tree incident, indruck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Duck Newton is not having a great day. Indrid can think of a few ways to make it better.





	Take A Giant Step

Duck Newton is fine. Totally fine.

The fact that he his sitting in his pajamas, in the empty bathtub, does not negate how totally fine he is.

Nor does the fact he’s been here most of the morning. 

It’s his day off, goddammit, and if he wants to spend it curled up in the tub he’s a grown-ass man and that’s his choice to make. 

He sighs, rests his chin on his knees.

He has no idea how long he’s been in here. And he really wants a hug.

Okay, so maybe he’s not fine. Maybe his system is still completely out of whack from losing his powers and he feels like the world might crumple in on him at any moment. He’d felt so tired and out of sorts when he woke up. He’d blamed it on shot crash from his T two days ago, ignoring the fact that usually only lasted a day for him. Then he’d blamed it on the grey weather. Now, he’s finally coming around to blaming it on fate and the universes' deep-seated drive towards irony. 

And to top it all off, one glance in the mirror told him he was having a bad body day (not a dysphoria flavor but a “you’re past your prime and hey good luck getting any better now that you’re stamina is fucked” flavor.) Which is why he’s sitting in the tub in the dark.

A knock on the door jolts him out of his daze. Shit, he and Indrid agreed to help Ned pick some more movies for Saturday Night Dead, and then Duck had gone and suggested they make a date of it, because of course he couldn’t take his long-lost boyfriend on a normal date like a functional adult. 

Another knock mercifully silences that train of thought.

“It’s open!” He yells, hopes Indrid hears him. The increase in meows from Winnie and a delighted “hello there” tell him he has.

“Duck? Are you alright?” A voice outside the bathroom door, soft and concerned. 

“Uhh, yeah, never, uh, never better, feelin' as, fuck, as good as a good-feelin'...thing?”

“That’s a no, then. I’m coming in unless you tell me not me not to.”

The door opens and Indrid flicks on the light. He must have already taken off a layer or two, is down to a fluffy grey and white sweater and sweatpants. Duck blinks in the light; he must look like a raccoon caught in a pool of porch-light. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The tone, concerned and warm but not patronizing, is enough for him to breathe a little easier. Indrid steps towards the tub, and all Duck wants is to throw himself into those arms. But it’s only been a week and a half since their reunion, and part of him fears appearing too attached will come back to bite them both in the ass. 

“Are you feeling alright? I can leave you be if you’re ill or-”

“No! Uh, um, I’m just feelin' the power loss today is all. C’mon, let’s, uh, let’s get started.” He scrambles up, hurries past Indrid. He deliberately looks away from the mirror, doesn’t notice Indrid silently take in that fact. 

He can salvage the day. Indrid will never suspect a thing. 

\---------------------------------------------------

Indrid has told many people, many times, that the difference between seeing a future and experiencing it is vast.

And yet the wallop of worry that hit him as soon as he saw Duck sitting in the tub was stronger than he assumed it would be. The bedhead and rumpledness was quite cute; the bags under his eyes, the way he looked three heartbeats from a panic attack, and the defeat in his shoulders were troubling. 

Indrid was, and is, resisting the urge to fuss over him. It’s only been a week or so since they got back together. And he’d be lying if he said he felt comfortable treating Duck exactly the same way he did twenty years ago. Age can change many things, and he doesn’t want Duck to think he sees him as a helpless teenager (he never did, never saw him as anything but an equal, and yet the worry remains).

As they get the movie ready, Ducks' mood improves and he speaks with more energy, seems more himself. He tells Indrid about the project he’s doing to monitor tree health in the forest, teases him for how much candy he brought, waves a cat toy about for Winnie as Indrid sorts through the DVDs Ned loaned them. 

“ _Count Draculas Great Love_?”

“Hmmm, not to start with. Feels like you gotta watch vampire flicks at night.”

“Very well. _Jesse James vs Frankensteins Daughter_ , perhaps?”

“That sounds buckwild, I’m in.” Duck takes the disc from Indrid, slips onto the floor and crawls to the DVD player. As he fiddles with it, Indrid enjoys the view. 

“Aw, fuck, think the player’s busted. Oh, hold up, just got a screw loose in the slotty..thing. Can you grab a small flat-head screwdriver from my toolbox? It’s in my bedroom closet.”

“Of course.”

“Thanks ‘Drid” follows him down the hall to the bedroom. 

Toolbox, toolbox, ah! He crouches down and flips open the latches, lifts the lid and several interesting future flicker to the front of his mind. 

There are many items in this toolbox, brightly colored and, he supposes, technically tools. 

But they are certainly not screwdrivers. 

“Duck? Which toolbox am I looking for?”

“What d’youohshit.” There’s a thud, Duck jumping off the couch. In three seconds he will come through the door. If his expression is frightened or angry, Indrids' best chance is to drop the matter. But if he’s blushing, some enjoyable futures become two hundred times more plausible. 

Duck stumbles through the door. 

He’s blushing.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Most of the time, the idea to keep his sex toys in a toolbox works great.

The other times, it ends in this sort of mix-up.

“I can, uh, I can explain.” 

“Duck, I was not born yesterday.” He’s picking different objects up, examining them as one might examine a bakery-case “I am well aware of what such devices are for. Not to mention we have items made for the same purpose back on Sylvain.”

The implications of that sentence kindle heat under the layers of free-floating angst in his chest.

“Guess I ain’t surprised by that. Sorry, just spaced on them bein' in the closet too. The one we’re lookin' for is...ah!” He gets up on his toes, pulls the other toolbox down and promptly drops it with a crash.

“Shit! When did that get so damn heav-oh, right.” He sighs. At least he didn’t drop it on his feet. At this rate, he’s going to die from a household accident before the next abomination gets a chance to kill him.

He turns to find Indrid, still seated, holding up a pair of boxer briefs in front of Duck, clearly envisioning what they’d look like on him. 

“I imagine you’d look quite attractive in these.”

“Y’know, they’re for a strap-on.”

“Yes, I was including that element in my estimation of how you’d look in them.” A familiar grin spreads across his face. The spark in Ducks chest is now a full-on blaze, and the way Indrid is looking at him gives him just enough confidence to make an offer. 

“Wanna see me in 'em?” 

“Yes, please.”

He takes them from Indrid, notices the other man hop onto the bed while he changes into them. Works the strap-on into position as the sound of a sweater hitting the ground comes from behind him. He ends up having to swap of the ring out, hears a sharp chirp followed the bed shifting.

“Are you bouncin' on the bed?”

“I’m excited.”

“For what.” He turns and watches Indrids 'smile widen, knows that if he were closer he’d see an awful lot of hunger in those eyes. 

“That. You.”

Duck moves to the foot of the bed. 

“Does it, er, pass muster?” 

“Very much so.” Indrid scoots closer, until he’s able to run a hand under Ducks shirt and up his chest, making him shiver.

“Is this all alright? All of it, I mean.” The question is soft, earnest.

“Yeah, yeah it is. Ain’t exactly what I was expectin' when my day started, guess my brain is just switchin' gears a little slower than I’d like.” Another small burst of confidence from the way Indrid looks at him is enough to make him tug his shirt over his head and toss it aside. 

“Would you like me to try something I foresee being helpful?”

“Hey, who am I to argue with foresight?” He smiles, gasps as Indrid trails kisses across his stomach.

“If memory serves, you’ve done exactly that many times.”

“You can’t prove nothinAHhey!” A small bite, just where his hip curves to meet his thigh. Indrid pulls back a little, then takes the head of the strap-on between his lips, moves his head back and forth, slowly, hands resting on Ducks thighs. 

Had someone asked Duck to predict his reaction, he would have said the idea of it turning him on was ridiculous.

But it’s deeply, incredibly arousing. He can’t feel anything from it, but the sight of Indrid with a cock (his cock, his mind purrs) in his mouth is a power-trip and late-night fantasy rolled into one. 

Indrid pulls back, kisses each hip once before taking even more into his mouth and moaning. 

“Fuck, ‘Drid, that’s real hot.”

A pleased hum as Indrids' hands skirt up his thighs and onto his ass, nudging him closer. Indrid glances up, head never stilling even when Duck tangles his fingers into his hair.

“Gotta warn you, watchin' this is givin' me ideas.”

“Such as?” Indrid wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, panting.

“I wanna fuck you real bad, so bad, please, I’ll, I’ll make you feel so good.”

“You make a convincing argument.” Indrid crawls back until his head is on the pillows and Duck climbs on top of him, kissing him ferociously as soon as he has the chance. 

“Smartass.” He mutters as they break apart. 

“It’s true. I find few things in the world as convincing as you, naked.”

“Whelp, now I know how to win any arguments with you.”

“You know too much. I can’t let you leave now.” Indrids' voice goes mock-serious as he wraps all of his limbs around Duck. 

“Ain’t that a fate worse than death.” He kisses him again, slow and easy, bumps their noses together when he pulls away.

“I better prep you.”

“No need. I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to one of your ‘tools’ while you were changing. Appropriately covered, of course.” 

“No way, was that what that chirp was?” Duck slips his hands under the waistband of Indrids' sweats, runs them across his ass and finds the base of a plug waiting for him. 

“Goddamn, forgot how useful your seein the future is when we fuck.” He yanks the sweatpants off.

“It does have its useOohhhhhh” His back arches as Duck fucks him a handful of times with the plug before pulling it out and setting it aside. Pulls the lube from the nightstand and coats the strap-on with it. 

“Ready?”

“Yes, oh, OHyesohgoodness.” The words trail off into a purr as Duck works his way in and starts to thrust. 

“Takin' that as a good sign.” He grins, kisses his way down Indrids' neck.

“Yes, yes I would like to do this forever now thank you.” 

Duck chuckles, finds Indrids' hands with his own.

“Fuck you as much as you like ‘Drid, give you anythin' you want.”

“I want you, ah, just you, my perfect Duck, as often as you’ll have me oh please do that again.” Duck puts more roughness behind his movements, Indrids' chirps and moans increasing when he does. He growls, pins Indrids' hands above his head which elicits an extra-loud groan that surprises them both.

“Oh, my, seems I like that quite a bit.” 

“Yeah? Then tell me somethin'” he whispers low in Indrids' ear, feels him shuddering as he does, “when was the last time you had a hickey?”

“Two decades ago.” There’s wistfulness in the smile that flickers across his face.

“Think you’re due.” He kisses slowly, gently down Indrids' neck, anticipation radiating from the man beneath him. When he bites down at the join between his neck and shoulder, the hands trapped in his own flex as a wordless gasp fills the room.

“More, please.” 

“You got it.” 

A trio of hickeys join the first, the volume of Indrids' moans and the intensity of his movements increasing with each one. His grip has relaxed, allowing Indrid to guide their joined hands downward.

“I’m, AH, close, so close, please touch me OH, yes, Duck, sweetheart, oh my goodness.” Duck sits up, continues thrusting his hips as he strokes Indrid off, his own body aching for release as he takes in the sight underneath him; the man of his dreams, hair a mess and glasses askew, completely undone from Duck fucking him, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry as he comes in Ducks hand. 

He wipes his hand on his discarded shirt, rubs Indrids' thighs soothingly as he pulls out. The other man is just staring at him, smiling, lips slightly parted as he catches his breath.

“You doin' alright ther-” Indrid knocks him back, kissing him all the while.

“That was incredible. You’re incredible.” He snuggles down against Ducks chest, showing no interest in leaving the bed. Which is good, since Duck can think of a dozen things he wants to do in it right now.

“Here, lemme get up and take this off. It can ride up like a sonofagun sometimes.”

Indrid rolls off him, humming softly. Duck stands, wriggles out of the boxer briefs and then, unfortunately, catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Worse, behind his own reflection is Indrids, still laying happily on the bed. He looks so...ethereal, so strange and perfect and Duck doesn’t just see, but keenly feels, all the ways in which Indrid surpasses him. He can’t ask him to do anything else in that bed. Not right now. 

“We uh, we should get started on those movies.”

Indrid raises up onto his elbows, looks at Duck and there’s that same concern, that same something ( _love_ his brain supplies and he waves the word away like smoke). A pause.

“Very well. Let me get dressed first. We wouldn’t want to scandalize the cat.”

\---------------------------

They’re most of the way through the second film, _Monstroid_ , curled up side by side on the couch in cozy clothes, Duck munching M&Ms while Indrid downs Skittles at an alarming rate, when Indrid starts to chuckle.

“I just realized why this feels so familiar.”

“Hmmm?”

“Do you remember the time you wanted to take me on date to the movie theater and then at the last minute it needed repairs from weather damage?”

“Oh, yeah! Y’know, lookin' back, I got a hunch it was abomination related damage instead. Oughta look in the records in the safe house.”

“Quite possible. Anyway, you decided that you were going to give me a proper movie date on way or another.”

“Nhgghuh.” Duck nods, covers his face with his hands as the type embarrassment that only comes when recalling ones youth wells up in him.

“None of that, I found it charming. You even picked a double feature and made me popcorn. Though my favorite part was when you told me there was still one element missing, and when I asked what you said, and I quote ‘ain’t a proper movie date without makin' out.”

“Fuckin' corny, way to go young Duck.”

“I liked it. Besides, it worked.” Indrid kisses him on the cheek, rests a hand fondly on his leg. 

“Suppose it did.” The memory, Indrid grinning at his bad pick-up line before pouncing on him and kissing him so many times he lost count, the way they ended up on the floor, Indrid grinding frantically up against him, floats through his mind. Goddammit, he’d just finally gotten his body to chill out. 

He’s wishing he’d put on a layer over his boxers when long fingers ghost across the front of them. 

“My, my, seems you like that memory as much as I do.”

“That I do.” The fingers are back, pressing gently against damp fabric and Duck gasps, rests his head on Indrids' shoulder. 

“Would you like me to continue?”

“J-just stay on the outside for now.”

“Your wish is my command. After all, I haven’t had a chance to properly thank you for our bedroom escapade earlier.”

“S’alright, I, uh, didn’t, I mean, fuck, wasn’t that, no, wait. Fuck.”

Indrid pulls his hand away, looks at Duck over the rims of his glasses.

“That was so bad I’m not sure it even counts as a lie.”

“I didn’t feel like it was somethin' I deserved, is all. Like I ain’t someone who deserves to ask for things like that from someone like you. It ain't your fault, my head’s been in fucked-up place most of today.” His voice comes out small, tired. He’s looking down when a cold hand cups his cheek. 

“The moment in the mirror?”

“Yeah. How-”

“There was a future where I asked and you answered right then, but the outcomes were better if I waited.”

“Oh.”

“Do you know what I was doing while you were looking in the mirror? I was looking at you, feeling so lucky that I get to see you in those quiet, vulnerable moments. Looking at you is like looking at a rich, beautiful landscape. Every angle, each glance, shows me something new to appreciate.”

Duck looks up and his breath catches. He can’t doubt the truth of what Indrid said, because Indrid is looking at him exactly that way now. 

“For a guy who owns mostly tank-tops, you can be real fuckin' smooth.”

Indrid laughs, leans in to kiss him and Duck eagerly meets him half-way. 

“Still think you don’t deserve to have me make you feel good?” Another kiss, deeper and less chaste.

“No, I mean, fuck, kinda ohhhhhhh.” The fingers are back, and this time Duck takes them in his own, guiding them under the fabric and onto an extremely grateful part of his body.

“Duck Newton, you deserve whatever pleasures your heart desires. If you want me to do this” he slips two fingers inside and Duck gives a groan of thanks, “I will gladly do so. And if you want me to take off my glasses and reduce you to a quivering mess with my tongue, just say the word. If you like, I can choose some delightful device from your toolbox and work you over with it until you see stars.” He underscores the last offer with another kiss and it finally, finally shuts the awful voice in his head up. And Duck knows exactly what he wants. 

“Would, would you make out with me? Might want somethin' else later but right now that’s what I really fuckin' want.”

A low hum as Indrid wraps his arms around him and kisses him again, one hand gradually moving up to twine into Ducks hair. Duck slips his hands under Indrids shirt, lets them roam free and lazy across his skin. Somewhere he touches must be sensitive because there’s a muffled chirp and Indrid kisses him harder tongue slipping between his teeth to meet Ducks own and Duck is so caught up in the moment that he loses his balance, falls onto his back on the couch, Indrid falling with him. The taller man takes advantage of their position change to kiss down Ducks neck before returning, enthusiasm still at full tilt, to his lips. 

When they next separate, Duck giggles.

“Feel like a fuckin' teenager again.”

“Mmm, you’re turning me on just like you were one.”

“Startin' to sound like a creepy old man there. Need me to put on one of my ratty band t-shirts to complete the picture?” He teases, laughs more when Indrid nips his ear in reproach.

“What I meant was I find you as irresistible now as I did then. And as for clothing, my opinion is you should be wearing less.” He tugs at Ducks sweatshirt, trying to pull it off. Duck sits up long enough to yank it over his head before falling back and surrendering to the flurry of kisses Indrid places on his chest and stomach. Indrid pauses to remove his sweater, dives down to catch Ducks mouth with his own. Duck smiles into the kiss as he feels Indrids' hard-on rub against his thigh.

“Condom, go, go get one. Please.” Huh, that request sounded more coherent in his head. 

Indrid is gone and back in flash, pants disappearing as soon as he sits down.

“Boxers off. Now.” 

“Easy there, cowboy, I ain’t goin' anywhereOhshhhit.” He lets his full weight relax into the couch as Indrid slips inside him, runs his thumb over his clit. 

“Mmmmmm, I’m the luckiest creature in the world.”

“How d’you figure.”

“Because I get to do this, with you.” He moves his hips slowly, kisses Duck every time a moan or gasp escapes him. Brushes stray hair from Ducks face.

“You’re so handsome.”

“I’m goin gray, I got a gut, and I got hello-kitty bandaids on three parts of my body.”

Indrid snickers.

“They were on sale!”

“I’m not laughing at that. I’m laughing because everything you mentioned is something I love. This” he strokes Ducks hair before kissing his forehead, “looks distinguished. This” his hands move across Ducks chest down to his stomach, “is the perfect place to rest my head for a nap.” 

“Ain’t no way you, fuck, jesus, can make the band-aids sexy.” Duck grins up at him, watches as Indrid notes the one on his upper thigh (training accident) and the one on his other wrist (paper cut), before placing a hand to cover each band-aid.

“True. But you know what they do?” His voice has gone low and his movements still

“What?” Duck rolls his hips.

“They tell me where to pin you down while I fuck you.” He shoves Ducks thigh so that his legs open, pins it in place in a way that moves Duckss foot onto the ground, pins his wrist to the back of the couch. 

“Oh hell yes.” Ducks heart is going a mile a millisecond. Indrid sits up, eyes raking over him.

“What a spectacular view. Would you like me to have my way with you?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Say please.”

“Please, ‘Drid, please fuck me SHITah, fuck, Fuck!” Those words are all he manages to get out before dissolving into a string of moans as Indrid thrusts hard and fast.

“Good boy, my sweet, well-mannered Duck.” It’s a growl, makes Duck shiver with want and with pleasure, work his hips in time with Indrids'. 

“I’ll be as good as, FUCK, as you want, just don’t fuckin' stop.”

“Mmmm, I know you will, you’ll take everything I give you, you’re so good, soOH, oh gracious!” He’s more flustered by the moment and Duck adores it, recalls something else from their past. He drags the nails of his free hand down Indrids' thigh, hears a pleased hiss and then, “do that again.”

In a few moments Indrids' thigh and side are coated in scratches, Ducks chest in retaliatory bite marks. His movements stutter and he presses a kiss to Ducks throat, coming with another growl that dies out into a chirp. Ducks need to come is starting to override all his other functioning. 

“I’m close, how, how d’you oh, ooooookay.” Indrid pulls out, drops to his knees on the floor, pulling Ducks other leg with him so both his feet touch the ground. And then his head is between Ducks legs, tongue moving in maddening, delicious circles. 

When Indrid begins sucking his clit, he’s a goner, hands digging into Indrids hair as he tilts his hips up once, twice, and the comes. Boneless, he slides onto the ground next to his boyfriend. 

“That was amazin'. I love you, ‘Drid.”

Oh no. That last part was supposed to stay in his head.

“I love you too.” 

“Oh thank god.” He falls sideways into Indrids' lap.

“I was waiting for you to say it first.”

“You oughta know by now that ain’t a good idea.”

“I suppose. I didn’t want to pressure you or rush. I never stopped loving you the whole time I was gone, but knew there was no guarantee you felt the same.”

“Didn’t take long for it to come back. Guess a part of me never stopped lovin' you either.”

“Well, then, Duck Newton, I shall reiterate that I love you, and want you, and will do whatever I can to help you feel better on bad days.”  
“Even if that means giving me head that makes me come so hard I crack your glasses.” 

Indrid touches the red lenses to make sure he's joking, laughs, and pulls him into a hug

“Yes, my love, even that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Take a Giant Step" by The Monkees. 
> 
> Shot crash doesn't happen for everyone, but a few folks I know have definitely noticed it. 
> 
> Fic requests are still open! https://thiswasinevitableid.tumblr.com/


End file.
